Most Charming Smile
by Hay Zelle
Summary: Romilda Vane and the girls from the Hogwarts Charms Club rally together to try to catch the eye of Harry Potter and promote him for Witch Weekly's most prestigious award.
1. Ch 1: Gutsy Girls Finish First

**Most Charming Smile**

**Chapter One: Gutsy Girls Finish First**

By Hazelle

It had seemed to Romilda Vane, upon her arrival in King's Cross Station, that the best place to monitor the platform traffic was from the Muggle side. On the pretense of waiting for her friends, Romilda had perched herself on a bench and whipped out the latest issue of _Witch Weekly_. Just like everything else in print, the magazine was full of advice about defending oneself and one's home against Death Eaters and personal anecdotes- including, of course, the exploits of Harry Potter. Romilda smiled her most mysterious smile and peeked casually over the top of _Witch Weekly_, scanning the crowd for a sign of The Gorgeous One.

"Romilda, darling, what _are_ you doing?"

Suddenly, the view of the train station was blocked by the figure of a woman, clad in magenta with her hands on her hips. Romilda moved the magazine away from her face (it had been nearly touching her nose) and gazed up at her mother. Before she could protest, the magazine had been tugged from her hands and stuffed out of sight in her mother's overlarge dragon hide handbag.

"Do try to be careful when you're on the Muggle side of things, darling," Lucilla Vane trilled, patting the moving magazine cover. "I would much prefer to get on the platform already, it's not nearly as safe here--"

As her mother continued rambling on to no one in particular, Romilda spotted him-- _him!_ Harry Potter himself! He looked exactly as he looked in the _Daily Prophet_, _The_ _Quibbler_, _Witch Weekly_ and _Young and Magical_. Romilda jumped up from the bench and looked eagerly around her mother, quite forgetting to disguise herself behind the magazine. Harry Potter was flanked by two suited men— bodyguards, no doubt-- who accompanied him through the barrier and out of sight.

"I've just seen Audrey," Romilda said hastily. She snatched _Witch Weekly_ out of her mother's purse, slung her book bag over her shoulder and made a dash for platform nine and three quarters. Her startled cry of "Darling!" and the sudden squeak of wheels from behind indicated that Mother and the house-elf were following with the trolley. Romilda plunged forward through the barrier without waiting for them.

For a moment, Harry Potter seemed to have vanished. Romilda stood on her toes, scanning the crowd.

"Ro_milda!_" her mother panted, coming to a heel-clicking halt. "Do _not_ stand on your shoes that way! You'll _crack_ them!"

Romilda dropped down and looked balefully at her mother, who continued in a shrill voice, "They aren't even real leather, I do not know why you wanted them to begin with, but they simply won't last if you stand on them like that. It bends them, darling."

"Yes, Mum."

With a sigh that was half exasperated, half adoring, Romilda's mother patted her daughter's cheek. She began to herd Romilda towards the train, motioning for their house-elf, Bop, to follow with the trolley. Romilda momentarily forgot that she had been pretending to wait for her best friend when Audrey Brockman herself appeared out of the thick steam.

"It's certainly smokey here today," she commented, by way of a greeting. "We must be upwind or something."

"It's not smoke, it's steam. And we are downwind."

"Whatever. Don't be so smart."

Romilda grinned. "Nice to see you, too."

"It always is," Audrey replied tartly.

Romilda turned back to her mother, who was speaking sternly to Bop and gesturing at her daughter's trunk. She didn't seem to notice that Romilda was hugging her and patting her hand, attempting to drag the trunk off of the cart and into the train. With a quick "Oh, goodbye, Darling, goodbye! Have a nice term!" Romilda's mother vanished in a flash of magenta, taking Bop with her. The unattended trolley began to drift drunkenly backwards, but Romilda let it be and followed Audrey's blond head through the packed train.

About halfway through the train, Audrey ducked into a compartment, dragging her trunk behind her. Romilda followed her in and was greeted by several people at once. The Sorting Hat might prattle on about how divided the school was, but Romilda thought it was a bit unfair of the Hat not to consider the fact that some students _did_ maintain friendships outside of their houses. Diversity was one of the top priorities of the Charms Club at Hogwarts; in fact, it was practically the entire purpose of the group. She raised her hand to greet the club members before her, smiling at her own open-mindedness.

Romilda had joined the Charms Club in her second year after reading an article about it in _Young and Magical_. Well, to be honest, it hadn't been an article about the Charms Club specifically. It had been an interview with Celestina Warbeck, who had gushed about her first love-- the president of the Charms Club in her Hogwarts days-- whom she had written her first hit song about. Romilda had rushed to join the club immediately after that. Though the presidents of the Charms Club since Romilda joined had both been girls, Romilda had remained in the club. Not long after the _YM_ interview, _Witch Weekly_ had done a piece on diversity, praising Hogwarts for hosting the Triwizard Tournament and for offering a "hip selection of clubs and societies" that encouraged inter house mingling.

_Yes_, thought Romilda, looking about the compartment. _We are a hip society, aren't we?_

Romilda's usual group had accumulated, as hip and diverse as ever. There was Halimeda White from Ravenclaw, Erin O'Brien, a Hufflepuff, and Erin's boyfriend Marcus Dyakov, also a Ravenclaw. Audrey and Romilda represented Slytherin and Gryffindor. They were only a small sample of the Charms Club roster (though, admittedly, quite diverse.)

"Hello, Audrey, Romilda," piped up Halimeda, who was already buried in a magazine-- _Fashion Seer_, it looked like. "I hope you both had nice summers."

"Oh _yes_," Audrey replied. "My family went to the World Cup in Japan. Fascinating country. Japanese cuisine has always interested me."

Romilda snickered to herself. Clearly, Audrey had been reading her mother's issues of Gilda Lachoix's self-titled magazine. The June 1996 issue, to be exact, had bluntly stated "Japanese cuisine is interesting". It was all about magazines with Audrey Brockman; the girl had no shame. Gilda Lachoix was essentially the female counterpart of Gilderoy Lockhart, though her spectacular breakthroughs pertained more to fighting dust bunnies and dinner parties than to dark forces. Although, Romilda _had_ found that Lockhart and Gilda Lachoix did have strangely identical suggestions on the removal of garden gnomes. In the Harry Potter issue of the _Quibbler_, Romilda had learned that there was alarming evidence suggesting that Gilderoy Lockhart and Gilda Lachoix were actually the _same_ person.

"-- well he isn't a Prefect, is he? He's probably around here somewhere."

"There's probably not enough room for any of us in his compartment anyway, he's probably surrounded. Did you see his bodyguards?"

"I bet they're Aurors."

Erin, Halimeda and Audrey's conversation suddenly came into focus. Romilda snapped her attention to them immediately. They could only be talking about Harry Potter and his entourage. Romilda had wondered where he had disappeared to.

"We could invite him to sit with us," she said sharply, casting meaningful looks at her friends.

Erin leaned in conspiratorially. Halimeda giggled and clapped a hand over her mouth as if giggling was uncharacteristic of her. Audrey's face took on a dreamy expression, contemplating being in the company of Harry Potter. No one made a move for the door, but Romilda knew her proposal was golden.

"Harry Potter is in sixth year," said Halimeda in a hushed voice.

"Halimeda is right," Audrey responded at once, sounding as though she were an expert on the subject. "He's a celebrity and he's a sixth year. He only dates older women."

Romilda rolled her eyes, and Erin looked momentarily downcast. The train was nearly at full speed now, and they had left the train station behind. Harry Potter, wherever he was, must be nearly settled in his compartment by now. It was time to take action. Romilda abandoned her seat, checked her reflection in the glassy window, and charged to the door. Struck by a sudden fit of the nerves, she turned back to her silent friends.

"Er. . . Come on, then. One of us has got to invite him."

Audrey was at her heels in a flash of perfect curls. "I'll ask him," she said firmly, whipping out a tiny cosmetic mirror from a pocket in her robes. "Gutsy girls _always_ finish first."

_That is so _YM, Romilda thought jealously. _She_ was the Gryffindor, not bloody Audrey. Oh well. Romilda would be sure to get a word in once they had him in their compartment.

Without waiting for any further comment from anyone, Romilda stepped out into the corridor and began to peek carefully into the left side compartments while Audrey took the right. Sooner than anticipated, Audrey let out a squeal and stopped. Romilda turned to see her beckoning with a wild flurry of hands. Erin pointed unnecessarily at the compartment they had stopped in front of and mouthed "He's in here!"

Audrey reached out her hand to open the door, and then drew it back in another flurry of movement. She raised her eyebrows at Romilda and looked at the door. Erin tapped her knuckles impatiently on her lips. Halimeda suddenly materialized behind them and leaned between Audrey and Erin to peek into Harry Potter's compartment.

"Harry Potter and the Amazing Technicolor Owl," she giggled.

"He's sitting with that Ravenclaw, Loony Lovegood," Erin explained quietly in response to Romilda's frown, simultaneously shushing Halimeda.

"Have you asked him yet?" Halimeda whispered.

"You ask him!" Audrey challenged.

"No, you!"

Romilda sucked in a breath. "I'll do it!" she announced.

Somehow, her fingers found the door handle. A surge of courage (or was it adrenaline?) coursed through Romilda's chest, and she threw the door open with a bit more force than was necessary. Letting the courage (or was it true love?) guide her, Romilda stepped into the compartment of Harry Potter. She turned confidently towards him, willing herself not to crack an unattractive smile as her eyes passed quickly over Loony (who was wearing the strangest glasses Romilda had ever seen), and said boldly, "Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane."

She took a breath, fluttered her eyelashes just a tiny, _tiny_ bit, and forced herself to continue with her quest-- despite the fact that she had just spotted a third person in Harry Potter's compartment. Well, it was really more like a third of the third person. Romilda couldn't tell whose backside it was, but there was definitely someone underneath the seats with only his bum showing. Romilda felt instant sympathy for poor Harry-- after all of his achievements, he couldn't even find anywhere to sit.

"Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with _them_," she said delicately with her well-practiced smile of mystery.

"They're friends of mine," Harry said, much to Romilda's surprise.

Surely he couldn't mean it. Well that settled it, he was just too noble and kindhearted for his own good. It wasn't that Harry Potter couldn't find anyone to sit with, it was simply that he took pity on people of lesser status than himself. After all, he did have his own group of friends-- friends who supported him in all he did and helped him fight off the agents of evil when they invaded areas of the Ministry so secret that they might not even exist. . . ! Romilda wanted to run to him and declare her undying love for him! She wanted to praise him for not succumbing to the pressures of being cool by ditching Loony and Mr. Bum (whom Romilda suddenly realized might be Neville Longbottom. The irony of this was not lost on her). Instead she said coolly, "Oh. _Oh_. Okay."

"Abort!" Erin squeaked the moment Romilda had closed the door. She didn't need to; Audrey, in typical Slytherin fashion, had abandoned ship as soon as Romilda had introduced herself. Halimeda had followed her almost immediately after Harry refused the invitation. To her credit, Erin had stayed to the end, but her bravery could not stand against a fit of the giggles. Shrieking like a banshee, Erin tore back to their compartment in a most unflattering manner.

The tension was so high by the time Romilda had returned to her seat that she almost felt the need to cast a Bubble Head Charm just to relieve her ears of the pressure. Even Marcus was staring at her, though he seemed more skeptical than expectant. Erin looked like she might burst with laughter and Halimeda was shaking silently from behind _Fashion Seer_.

"Perhaps you need to work on your mysterious smile," Halimeda managed at last, dropping her magazine and laughing without restraint.

Romilda couldn't help giggling herself; it was actually rather funny now that she thought about it. She had definitely been snubbed by Harry Potter. They had _all_ been snubbed by Harry Potter. Perhaps she _hadn't_ spent enough time in front of the mirror with the mysterious smile.

"What in Hades is an Amazing Technicolor Owl?" she demanded at last, sending Halimeda into fresh peals of laughter.

"Never mind that," interrupted Audrey. "Your approach was all wrong. Zero subtlety. He was going to decline the moment you asked."

"Oh, what would you have done, stood out in the corridor and wet yourself?" Romilda retorted. "Or, better yet, pulled a real Slytherin and run off to _hide_?"

"Play nicely," Erin warned. Bickering always made her anxious.

"I wasn't going to take a shot at her House," Audrey returned. Instead, she pulled out _Witch Weekly_ and held it aloft for all of them to see.

"Is that. . . the next issue?"

Romilda couldn't believe her eyes. _Witch Weekly_ was always published on Sundays and distributed on Mondays. The copy that she had herself was supposedly hot off the press. Her father had jumped through hoops to have it delivered to their home a day early, the minute it was printed. How was it possible that Audrey already had the next weeks issue?

Romilda was torn between envy and awe, so she settled for a dropped-jaw expression.

"I know," said Audrey dramatically, nodding at Romilda's expression and looking like she couldn't believe her own luck.

"How did you get that?"

"That can't be the _next_ issue! Show us the date!"

"Ooh I'm so jealous!"

When the buildup of excitement was too much to take, Audrey spoke. "My cousin Ruby is working for their astrologist now. Ruby was a Divination whiz if you recall, she graduated the year we started. _Witch Weekly_ gave her a sort of apprenticeship, and she's going to send me the advance issues _as soon as they're printed_." She emphasized the last words with a catty smile pointed at Romilda's bag, where the current _Witch Weekly_ had been hastily rolled up and stowed.

"How can it already have this week's news in it?" asked Marcus suddenly. All the girls turned startled looks on him, and he shifted awkwardly away from them. "My mum reads it," he mumbled, and pulled a textbook from his bag on reflex (this was Marcus's usual back up plan in case socializing went awry.)

Halimeda took the magazine and opened it very carefully to the back area where news stories were usually listed. "It's all blanks here," she announced, leafing through several empty purple pages. "Perhaps they write out all of the rest of it and then squeeze in the news at the last minute?"

Tuning out of the chatter at once, Romilda threw a betrayed look at her seriously outdated magazine before settling back to analyze the past ten minutes. She was thinking again about Harry Potter, who had actually spoken to her. "_They're friends of mine_." Four whole words, plus punctuation; five if you wanted to count "they're" as two words. Okay, so maybe four and a half words. Not to mention the nonverbal communication, which, according to _Young and Magical_ was vital to understanding the opposite sex. She tried to recall the exact tone and inflections Harry had used in his four and half word sentence to her. "_They're friends of mine_." What had he been trying to say?

On the one hand, he had sounded defensive. This made sense considering all of the things Romilda had read about Harry Potter. He was a very private person, which was completely understandable. Many celebrities were like this. However, he had not been rude, had he? He had been given an opportunity to escape Loony Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, and he had gone out of his way to _not_ be rude to them. Romilda wished she could've told Harry that there was no need for him to defend his choices to her.

"_They're friends of mine_."

The words had moved into her mind and made themselves at home. The only problem with this that Romilda could find was that the more Harry repeated himself in her head, the easier it was for her to invent her own version of Harry's words. She didn't do it on purpose, but four and a half words quickly turned into full heartfelt confessions that hadn't yet happened.

". . . I didn't bring it out so you could _check your horoscope_." Audrey's disdainful voice cut into Romilda's fantasizing.

"It's not that big of a deal, I just like to keep informed, thank you! Just let me peek!" Erin held her hands out for _Witch Weekly_.

"Oh come off it, these are the horoscopes for _next_ week, you'll just forget them." Audrey was refusing, probably for no reason at all.

"Audrey, you're being such a magazine Nazi." Halimeda was flicking impatiently through _Fashion Seer_ with a knowledgeable look on her face.

"You _never_ make any sense, d'you know that Halimeda? Never." Audrey looked right at Romilda and handed her the coveted advance issue of the most popular modern magazine for witches. It was folded over to an article with the title "Summoning the Man of Your Dreams: A Witches Dating Guide."

"What's this rubbish?" Romilda asked with a raised eyebrow of well-practiced apathy.

"The Nazis were like Death Eaters in Muggle-land back in the '40s," rambled Halimeda in a vague way. "So when I call you a magazine Nazi, I mean that you're oppressing us all with your miserly magazine sharing."

"Enough with the Muggle trivia!" Audrey said loudly.

Halimeda looked up with a sheepish smile, not remotely perturbed by Audrey's tone. "Just a fun fact."

"Here's a fun fact for you. We just had an encounter with Harry Potter, The One Not Yet Chosen For Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award But Will Be Someday. Granted, it did not go that well, but that was just a test." Audrey looked around impressively. "It totally validates this article, you see."

Romilda didn't see the connection. "How can our being turned down possibly validate an article about Summoning the Man of Your Dreams?"

"Read the first part," instructed Audrey.

Clearing her throat, Romilda read from a section titled _The Tall, Dark Introvert_, "'Gutsy Girls finish first, but this does not mean one should simply stroll up to a wizard and introduce herself,'" she read. "'While tall, dark strangers are shown to be six times as sexy as your average wizard, they are not nearly as approachable.'"

"Possibly because tall, dark strangers are about six times more likely to kill you these days," grumbled Erin.

"'While tall, dark strangers are shown to be six times as sexy as your average wizard, they are not nearly as approachable,'" Romilda continued. "'According to a _Witch Weekly_ poll, modern wizards are currently favoring the quiet but self-confident witch. So, if your wizard is a TALL, DARK INTROVERT (see the _What Type is Your Wizard?_ chart on page 22), mix a little mystery and intrigue into things and watch the effects. Be reserved. Play hard to get! (See page 24 for more on approaching TALL, DARK INTROVERTS.)'"

A contemplative silence filled the compartment as the girls absorbed _Witch Weekly_'s advice. Romilda rubbed her chin absently. Yes, perhaps she had been a bit too forward; too much mysterious smile and not enough mystery. It was certainly something to consider-- the magazine _had_ been correct when it predicted that the Tall, Dark, Handsome One wouldn't respond to a bold and open invitation. Harry Potter just needed to be worked on a bit, but not so much that he noticed he was being worked on.

Audrey spoke first, her chin lifted and posture straight, gazing down her nose at Romilda. "If you're going to go after Harry Potter, I think you're going to need to reinvent yourself," she said.

"It isn't a matter of _if_," Romilda replied saucily. "It's a matter of _how_."

She had always wanted to say that.

**A/N:** Kudos and applause for sveltskye, who handles my runaway commas, run-on sentences and awkward passages over at the Sugar Quill. Thanks also to Laurelism for the formatting help, and to A.J. for being a big pain .


	2. Ch 2: The Lion and the Fan Club

Most Charming Smile

By Hazelle

Chapter Two: The Lion and the Fan Club

The following week brought two issues of _Witch Weekly_ (the advance issue and the regular one), more homework than ever ("O.W.L.s are _next year_," Erin reasoned), and of course, the first meeting of the Charms Club. Romilda's first week had gone by in a flash. The initial week of school had always felt to Romilda like one big social event-- the kind of obligatory event where one must smile a lot, say "Hello, how are you?" to everyone, and appear to be perfectly comfortable and in the swing of things. In reality, the first week of school was a perfect nightmare of really bad haircuts, failed trends, and reprimands for tardiness.

Much to Romilda's disappointment, Harry Potter sightings were few and far between, though Harry Potter gossip was at an all time high. The girls in her dormitory giggled excessively and had started a small collage with photos and clippings of Harry. Most of the pictures had been taken from newspapers or magazines, but Kate Tarleton revealed a collection of real photos she'd received from her cousin's friend's brother in fifth year. These mainly depicted Harry Potter doing regular, everyday activities that would've been unremarkable except for the fact that it was Harry Potter doing them.

"That's very creepy," Audrey sniffed when Romilda told her about the dormitory shrine. "Taking pictures of someone without their knowing?"

"It's not creepy. It's exclusive."

"We've got a picture of him in _our_ dormitory," Erin said. "But it's just the one. Charity Overton pasted him over one of the Quidditch Players on her Tornadoes poster."

Audrey looked as if she had a thing or two to say about Charity Overton's Tornadoes poster, but she was only able to mouth them, as Halimeda had selected that moment to take her turn at the Silencing Charm. Audrey was surprised for a moment, then relaxed back to her smirk. Silencing Charms were typically an O.W.L. level charm, but Professor Flitwick had agreed to let the Charms Club tackle it with the ambitious younger students.

"Please use your toads, not your partners," a Club Officer chided, casting a quick _Finite incantatum_ on Audrey before moving on to another silent student.

"My toad isn't making any noise to begin with," Romilda complained loudly, tapping it on the back with her wand, which prompted no sound.

"It's probably been silenced so many times that the residue of the charm has permanently affected it," offered Halimeda.

"Perhaps we should use it on Audrey more often in that case."

Audrey rolled her eyes. It was a wonder that she didn't have eye strain or a tick. "If the Silencing Charm leaves a residue, we wouldn't have to recast it on our Fwooper every single month. It's my grandmother's," she added quickly.

It was a quick save, though probably not a truthful one. Fwoopers were possibly the most annoying creatures in the Wizarding World. As they were all but banned by the Ministry of Magic in the seventies, Romilda had never actually heard one. However, _Charms Today_ accused the birds' song of being the inspiration behind the nine-stringed saw— the sound of choice at such celebrations as Deathday celebrations. Romilda had never been to one of these either, but she _had_ attended an undead orchestral performance with her parents in which a nine-string saw had had a solo. This experience had been enough to make her wary of the Fwooper fad. She thanked her lucky stars that Fwooper keeping had been a short-lived trend shot down by _Witch Weekly_ only a week after they first promoted the pet.

Audrey had probably begged and begged for a Fwooper during the week that they had been cool and now she was stuck with it. Romilda tucked this piece of information away for later.

"Anyway—"Audrey jumped right back into a new topic, clearly wanting to forget her Fwooper slip. "—as I was saying before you interrupted me— Charity Overton told Jade Pucey that she heard from Ernie Macmillan that Harry Potter won a bottle of love potion in Slughorn's class."

"She didn't tell me that!" Erin protested.

"It was a long time ago. Like, last Monday or something," explained Audrey, waving Erin off. "She probably just forgot to mention it."

"I can't believe she'd tell something to Jade Pucey before she'd tell her own housemate." Erin seemed a little hurt, possibly too hurt to realize the implications of Harry Potter possessing a bottle of love potion.

"What could Harry Potter possibly need love potion for? What kind of love potion? I wonder who he'll use it on." Romilda pouted, eyes cast down on her toad. "That's totally unfair." Double unfair! Not only did The Gorgeous Green-Eyed One not need a love potion, he would probably waste it on some undeserving, soppy-eyed girl.

"Maybe Cho Chang," suggested Audrey. "Or his friend Granger."

"I heard that he had a thing with Ron Weasley's sister," added Erin knowledgably.

Romilda laughed. "Where did you hear that? He's never had anything going with Ginny that I've heard about." She wondered momentarily if perhaps Harry Potter _had_ dated Ginny Weasley without her knowing about it. But no-- "Ginny is dating Dean Thomas, the cute artistic one in sixth year."

"Maybe he will use it on Cho," said Halimeda, who was pocketing her wand. "She was pretty unimpressed with him last year. And as for Hermione Granger, it doesn't sound to me as though Harry Potter would _need_ a love potion for her. You read _Witch Weekly_."

Unfortunately, the whole world seemed to share Hermione Granger's feelings for Harry Potter. He was the desire of every girl Romilda knew. He was tall, athletic, and fearless. His hairstyle was imitated by rock star Kirley Duke of the Weird Sisters. There was no doubt that he could date whomever he chose to—even the Cho Changs of the world who couldn't possibly begin to understand him.

"I'm going to head to the library," Halimeda said, breaking Romilda of her train of thought. "I told my study group I'd meet them there if we finished Charms early."

"Are we finished?" asked Audrey, looking relieved. "This is so boring."

"I don't know if the club is collectively finished, but I certainly am," Halimeda replied airily. "This is easy. I got it on the first try."

Audrey jumped to her feet and followed Halimeda to the door. "If you're leaving, I'm leaving. See you girls later."

They slipped out unnoticed, leaving Romilda and Erin to tend to two stubbornly quiet but unsilenced toads. The Silencing Charm might be easy for Halimeda in all of her Ravenclaw glory, but Romilda had found it difficult and boring. There was no way she would be able to concentrate on the task of learning it when Harry Potter was in the castle somewhere, trying to decide which girl to give his love potion to.

The situation called for lots of mysterious smile (as mystery was said to be the #1 trait sought by young men, according to _Young and Magical_), lots of lip gloss (Peachy-Keen flavor) and a way to hook Harry Potter's attention. They were halfway through the second week of school— someone must have worked out his schedule by now. She could make a point of passing him in the corridors between every class and sit reasonably far away from him at meals (though not so close that she looked like she was _trying_ to get close). _Witch Weekly_ had recommended subtlety: the trick was to appear available but uninterested.

As she walked back to Gryffindor tower with the other Charms Club Gryffindors, Romilda thought hard about what to do. Opportunities usually presented themselves in a timely manner, and Romilda trusted that her destiny would fulfill itself naturally. She shouldn't push for things this week— that's what her horoscope said.

Romilda was one of the last people to climb through the portrait hole. Half the group of people she'd been walking with had scurried over to the announcement bulletin on the other side of the common room and become part of a larger, louder group. Romilda hurried over to see what the commotion was about.

"Tryouts for Quidditch!" Kate Tarleton exclaimed, running up to Romilda and clapping her hands together excitedly. "I'm going to do it."

Romilda smiled mysteriously—it was almost natural now— and then grinned broadly. _I told you so!_ Her intuitive inner voice bragged. It was the perfect opportunity, and she hadn't had to push for it at all. The news had even come to her without her needing to push to the front of the crowd. Saturday would be the day.

As the weekend approached, Romilda found herself at the center of a Quidditch revolution. Of course, she wasn't surprised that half the girls in Gryffindor were knocking on her door begging for favors, tips, and miracles. Romilda had the golden answer to the one big Quidditch question on every girl's mind:

"What do I do with my hair?"

Romilda smiled inwardly and outwardly as more people squashed into the fourth year's dorm, seeking last minute hair and make-up help. It wasn't even six in the morning yet, tryouts were hours away, and Romilda felt oddly relaxed among the frantic girls around her. Some were groggy and puffy-eyed, but most of them seemed not to have slept at all and Romilda nearly despaired over the bags under so many otherwise lovely eyes. She herself had had a round eight hours of sleep.

"You should have come to me last night," Romilda chided a fifth year as she tried to lasso an unruly amount of hair with a length of ribbon. "I could've done a twelve-hour Mane-Taming charm."

She tapped the ribbon with her wand and muttered a simple reinforcement charm to keep it from coming loose. Turning slowly and stepping carefully over the many girls sitting on the ground, Romilda made her way over to her own bed to supervise Kate's braiding. Privately, Romilda felt that she was the superior stylist, but Kate had offered her help. Just as she was about to make a comment about wandwork versus handwork, a troupe of wet-haired first and second years appeared.

"Over here, ladies," Romilda trilled, jumping from her bed to the next. The curtain was closed, but Romilda sailed right through it. There was a squawk of dismay from the lump of blankets within. "Hey, Leslie. I need your bed."

Leslie Stimpson sat up with a tired but furious look on her face. "You broke my Soundproofing Charm," she rasped, and then caught sight of the crowd outside the curtain. "What are you _doing_ in here?"

"Quidditch tryouts are this morning."

Romilda had never pegged Leslie for a Harry Potter fan, but she was soon blow-drying the hair of younger students like a pro. The promise of a hair charm and Quidditch with Harry could motivate anyone, Romilda decided. She returned to her work of curling, twisting and scenting hair and tuned into Stephanie Caldwell reading horror stories from the new _Young and Magical_.

"'_I ran to the loos and realized that the charm had also turned my hair purple. I panicked, and immediately tried to Apparate home. In my hurry, I splinched myself'"—_Stephanie paused here to let the girls nearest to her groan and clap hands over their mouths_— "'leaving behind all of my hideously hued hair and my left leg. When the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad showed up at my flat, the dreamy squad leader handed me my purple hair and said "Here's your wig, madam." I was too embarrassed to correct him, so I let them reattach my leg and had to have a friend fix my hair after the A.M.R.S. left._'"

By this time the whole room was listening. Horror stories commanded attention like nothing else Romilda had ever encountered. Stephanie Caldwell had the perfect voice for reading them so that even the dumb ones sounded unbearably traumatizing. That was probably why she was so popular— that, and the fact that she shared a room with Ginny Weasley, whose brother Ron was Harry Potter's best friend.

"Here's an appropriate one," said Stephanie. "'_A few years ago, I spent the summer with an older relative who needed help with yard work. The roof needed a new Impervius Charm, and though I am a terrible flier, I insisted on going up to recast it myself. I was only a few feet off the ground when I lost my grip on the handle and fell. The broom drifted away across the street, and before I could catch it, it had crashed right through the window of another house. Horrified, I knocked on the door only to come face to face with my Hogwarts crush. I explained about my fall, but could never look him in the face after that_.'"

A new kind of silence filled the room that had nothing to do with the fact that the story hadn't been the juiciest, most embarrassing one.

"I haven't practiced Quidditch since August," stammered a seventh year with perfectly crafted curls, courtesy of Romilda.

"I haven't been on a broom since last winter," another girl said, pulling anxiously on her face and smearing some of the glitter.

The first years on Leslie's bed all exchanged worried looks. "I've never been on a broom before," one of them confessed.

However, the hours slipped away as they camped out in the packed dormitory. Anxiety mingled with the fumes from the hair potions and curling charms as the conversation turned to flying fears. Everyone was worried about making fools out of themselves in front of the Gorgeous One. Romilda also saw many of her hair-dos exchanged for supposedly more Quidditch practical styles. As they marched in procession through the common room and out through the castle, she felt privately that it would now take a small miracle to earn any of these girls Harry Potter's love potion.

"No one practices for _tryouts_," Romilda reassured Kate for the umpteenth time. They had arrived at the pitch with their group of prancing girls. She reapplied her trusty peach lip gloss and smoothed her fringe to one side. Had there been an actual category for appearance, Romilda would have received a top score.

As Harry Potter marched on to the pitch, he seemed to survey the potentials with a professional air. Romilda had a sudden image of him lifting the Quidditch World Cup trophy to his lips, kissing it, and thanking his beautiful Romilda for being such an inspiration from the moment he met her. She laughed this vision off good-naturedly, as Harry was already an inspired Seeker and thus needed no inspiration from anyone. It would be more likely that he would thank her for her support and unique understanding.

First, though, she would have to catch his eye.

With a start, Romilda snapped to mysterious smile attention: for a moment, she thought that Harry Potter had been looking right at her. But no— he was greeting Cormac McLaggen. Cormac was a distant cousin, and Romilda was only thankful that his burly frame had clearly not made it into her own branch of the gene pool. When Cormac slouched off to the side, Harry Potter cupped his hands and called for attention.

Romilda (and several other girls) giggled as the echoing pitch fell instantly silent and Harry looked charmingly startled at his own power and influence. He mumbled, cleared his throat, and asked for them to split into groups of ten. Romilda braced herself against the sudden rush of nerves and adrenaline that rushed over her and looked around for the gang of Gryffindor girls she had arrived with. To her shock, Erin was standing behind her, clutching a Twigger 90 and smelling strongly of raspberry perfume.

"Erin!" she exclaimed, and could think of nothing else to say.

"Whoops, there goes my group!" Erin grinned eagerly and skipped off to join a group of mostly unfamiliar faces.

"Why are there Hufflepuffs here?" asked Kate, looking mutinous, even accusatory.

"_I_ don't know," Romilda protested, feeling suspicious and rather put out.

However, by the time she spotted Halimeda in a group of Gryffindors across the pitch, Romilda's spirits were too high to be brought down by confusion. She was sure that Harry Potter had spotted her this time. Perhaps he was already planning his approach. The very thought made her feel giggly and excited and ready to play some extreme Quidditch. The first group to take flight failed to actually leave the ground. The hilarity of the situation and the look on Harry's face were enough to leave a girl on cloud nine for the rest of the week. Romilda managed a wave and a loud, clear laugh for Halimeda that also caught Harry's attention.

This time, there was definite eye contact. His expression was unreadable and madly attractive. Romilda braced herself, mounted her broom and took the hand of the girl next to her.

"I'm holding on to your tail!" Kate squealed.

And they were off. At least, Romilda thought they were. Were they? Some of them were rising up, others were still on the ground, and all of them seemed to be connected. There were many squeals, giggles and unanswered cries for assistance as the tangled net of all of Harry's biggest fans rose and fell in strange, shifting waves. Romilda laughed, finding herself in the rather awkward position of Kate being higher up but still clutching her tail end while Olivia, whose hand she was holding, refused to leave the ground.

Romilda tugged her hand free of Olivia's stubbornly grounded one and reached up to clutch Margot Sinclair's robes instead, hoping this would help bring her high enough to be noticed from the ground. Unfortunately, their warbling energies faltered at just the wrong moment, and the group returned to the ground. Romilda was by no means disappointed; Harry sent them all off the pitch, but gave her a good long look. He couldn't have seen her play properly through all of the tangled limbs and tumbling hair, but perhaps she would make call backs anyway.

With their energy back at full strength, the Gryffindor girls traipsed to the stands, talking loudly and making catcalls. Romilda jeered and laughed, clapping her hands and singing along with the rest of the people cheering from the bleachers. She was inwardly pleased when Halimeda's group had a mass collision near the west end goal hoops and was forced to land, but she saved Halimeda a seat among the Gryffindors nonetheless.

"Why are you at Gryffindor tryouts?" Romilda demanded the minute Halimeda seated herself. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Audrey dared me to, and I owed her one," Halimeda said simply. "Imagine if I had made the team!"

"You could've mentioned it."

Halimeda tilted her head back with a tinkling laugh. "You didn't mention you were trying out," she countered. "Audrey said that I should surprise you."

"How did Audrey know?" Romilda asked, becoming suspicious again.

"I think she probably heard it from Jennifer Diuguid. Jennifer plays Gobstones with Kate Tarleton, and Kate knew you were trying out, didn't she?"

Romilda said nothing, but was annoyed with both Kate and Audrey—Audrey for being such a nosy gossiper, and Kate for not only gossiping but for accusing _Romilda_ of somehow being responsible for Hufflepuffs trying out for Gryffindor Quidditch. How hypocritical and ridiculous could one get? The girl had no shame.

"Why is Erin here?" she asked at the same moment Harry Potter realized he had a whole group comprised of Hufflepuffs.

"If there's anyone else here who's not from Gryffindor, leave now, please!" he shouted, his voice still managing to echo over the chatter from the stands.

"I'm not sure. I didn't know she was coming."

Erin ran up to them, cheeks pink, slipping slightly in her hurry. "That was so cool!"

"Erin!" Romilda exclaimed again, conjuring her most sour face.

"Audrey suggested it," Erin tittered. "She said that loads of people from other Houses would be here. It's a sponsored Fan Club event!"

"A sponsored _what_?" Romilda demanded. "When I get my wand on Audrey, I am going to jinx her into the next dimension."

"A Harry Potter Fan Club event, sponsored by his Official Fan Club," Erin rambled. She pulled up her sleeve to reveal a scarlet wristband adorned with the golden silhouettes of roaring lions. In painfully bright green lettering were the words "Official HP Club VIP Member."

"I didn't know there was a fan club," said Halimeda, scooting down to make room for Erin to sit.

"Audrey told me about it. She's the one who got me in," Erin said, twirling the wristband around. "Apparently it's very private, like a secret society."

Jealousy and contempt fought for center stage in Romilda's mind. Audrey was supposed to be her best friend, yet she went out of her way to wrong foot Romilda. Not only that, but she invited Erin to the secret society and managed not to say a word about it to the first person she should have told. Romilda was more jealous of Audrey's favoritism than Erin's club. The idea of a Fan Club was too primitive for her— it was the sort of thing she might have done in first or second year.

Romilda sat silent throughout the rest of tryouts, noting that her brooding air and expressionless gaze made Erin uncomfortable, which served her right. It would be much worse for her to have Romilda giving her the cold shoulder instead of ignoring her outright. Erin would be apologetic and pretty much at Romilda's beck and call until she was certain she had been forgiven. Serve her right indeed.

As tryouts progressed, Romilda found it increasingly harder to maintain her cold, hurt persona. As Harry Potter narrowed down the talent pool to the final players, it was nearly impossible to keep from turning around to gasp and gossip with everyone else. Harry wasn't just making a Quidditch team; he was bestowing kids with pure popularity like nothing a potion or a charm or a set of designer robes could ever achieve.

The biggest surprises of the day were Ritchie Coote and Demelza Robins. Demelza was a nondescript third year with few friends. Romilda didn't really know her, but she knew Coote and was flabbergasted when Harry gave him a first string Beater position. It was like the Loony and Longbottom fiasco all over again— Harry just didn't have it in him to let down the little people. Coote was easily the most unpopular person in the entire fourth year. His appointment to the Quidditch team would give him a whole new social status.

"Eurgh, not Coote!" someone behind them exclaimed as Romilda fought back the image of Ritchie Coote sitting with her group at meals.

Lavender Brown was behind her, sharing a despairing look with Parvati Patil. Romilda nodded her understanding. "At least he isn't in _your_ year," she sighed.

To Romilda's delight, Lavender laughed. "Too true. We have Neville," she exchanged another look with Parvati. "But at least Neville is sweet. Coote is a total cad."

"You're so lucky you're in sixth year," Romilda gushed. She could hardly believe that she was carrying on an amiable (and almost personal) conversation with Lavender Brown. "You've got all the interesting people in your classes— no real weirdos like Coote or the rest of them."

For a moment, Romilda thought she had lost Lavender's attention for good as the older girl suddenly stood halfway up in her seat and shouted "Good luck!" at the top of her voice. Ron Weasley was up at the goal hoops, and Romilda would have been very interested to watch if it weren't for her near-conversation with Lavender. A moment later, Lavender had buried her face in her hands.

"Ron used to be pretty strange," she said at last, peeking out at Romilda through her fingers. "Not totally eurgh-gross like Coote, but he was strange. Oh, I can't watch!"

Romilda's attention ventured gleefully back to Weasley. She was playing all the cards right, and more importantly she seemed to have all the right cards for a change. Lavender Brown was talking to her.

"Anyway, boys usually come around in about fifth year," Lavender reassured her at last. "That's not saying that _Coote_ will be any less gross, even if he's being picked up by the social Radar Charm now."

"And if they don't come around by fifth year," Parvati interjected, having also determined that Romilda was cool enough to be spoken to, "you can always go for older guys."

"Older guys," Romilda echoed. Ron Weasley blocked the fifth penalty and cinched his spot as Keeper, causing a great, cheerful ruckus to rise up from Romilda's section and drown out her lone, dreamy voice.

Uber-Quick A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter one— your feedback and encouragement is more appreciated than you know .


	3. Ch 3: The Season

Disclaimer: Romilda, Harry, Hogwarts et al are the property of J.K. Rowling. The features chart and its consequences are based on the work of Louise Rennison (see pgs. 100-103 _in Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging_). Basically, if you recognize it, it's just being borrowed.

A/N:

Phew! After all this time, you're still reading? Cool :P

Thank you to my new beta, Pirate Queen, who jumped right into this with gusto and enthusiasm. And thanks again to the people who left such encouraging reviews for Ch. 2— I would PM you all if the PM system didn't intimidate me!

**Most Charming Smile**

By Hazelle

**Chapter Three: The Season**

Due to the combination of hair styling brilliance and a divine networking gift, Romilda found herself in top form following her appearance at Quidditch tryouts. She was now sitting next to fifth years at dinner, practically a wand's length from where Harry Potter sat. Lavender Brown had smiled at her in library. Stephanie Caldwell was treating her as an old friend and had shared Romilda's table in the common room one evening as they did their homework.

Whatever mean, manipulative spirit had possessed Audrey in September seemed to have passed on. Audrey was back to her cheery, sarcastic self and Romilda soon forgot that she was angry with her and Erin. Her fury with the two of them had lasted for about a day, and Romilda was inclined not to count it at all because she had not run into Audrey or Erin on the day she was ignoring them.

All thoughts of Fan Clubs and cold shoulders were quickly replaced in the following week by a shared anxiety over Erin's boyfriend troubles. Erin had locked herself up in her dormitory, and it had taken an inordinate amount of persuasion and bribery to coax her out of Hufflepuff Den. Apparently, Marcus had taken a liking to a third year called Orla Quirke. Though he insisted that he fancied Erin more, Marcus was conspicuous by his absence and made no real effort to convince of Erin of his loyalties.

Aside from hiding in her dormitory, Erin had taken to skipping meals so that she wouldn't have to see Marcus sitting at the next table. She hadn't broken up with him yet, and seemed to think that if she didn't see him, she wouldn't have to break it off. After she missed the second Charms Club in a row, Romilda nearly broke into Hufflepuff Den herself in order to drag Erin back out into the world.

"She hasn't come to a single Herbology class since last week," Halimeda whispered. "Professor Sprout doesn't seem too upset, but she took Marcus aside once. I don't know what they were talking about."

"Do you even know this Orla girl?" Audrey asked, wrapping her scarf fiercely around her neck.

"She's cute, I suppose. I wouldn't call her pretty," Halimeda said, answering Audrey's real question and rolling her eyes. "She's only a third year."

"Merlin on a broomstick! I swear, to look at him you would think Marcus had at least an ounce of good taste in him," Audrey exclaimed. "That's why we put up with him every other bloody day. Erin needs to drop him, right now."

As the three of them milled around outside the entrance to Hufflepuff Den, Romilda thumbed through her _Witch Weekly_. She was trying to be interested in the news section, since it was the only part of her magazine that was newer than Audrey's. She was anxious for the next issue to arrive— one could only reread the same boring news so many times. After every other Hufflepuff seemed to have departed, the painting swung open one last time and Erin poked her head out.

"Oh. You're still waiting," she mumbled. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she looked miserable. "Look, just go to Hogsmeade without me. Please."

Before Erin could close the painting, Romilda had dropped _Witch Weekly_ to the floor and with Audrey's help, seized Erin by the shoulders and hauled her out of the portrait hole.

"No--please, I'd rather not--I don't want to see them together!" she wailed. "I don't have my cloak, or my marigold earmuffs!"

"We have them," huffed Audrey. "We had one of your girls grab them for us." She proceeded to wrestle Erin into her own cloak. Romilda produced Erin's prized marigold earmuffs and snapped them onto her head. The satisfying clap of earmuffs over ears seemed to finalize their plans for the day, as Erin stopped fighting them off and allowed her hands to be stuffed into a pair of pink mittens.

"This is for your own good," Halimeda assured her, tying a Hufflepuff scarf around Erin's neck. "You need to get some fresh air, a bottle of Butterbeer, and a new pair of shoes. No more recycling your own tears up in that dreary dormitory, surrounded by pictures of dumb Marcus."

Erin sniffled, wiping an eye on her sleeve. She didn't say anything, but nodded sadly and transferred her wand from her back pocket to her cloak. Halimeda linked arms with her, and the four girls made for the Entrance Hall. Filch was picking at his teeth with the end of his Secrecy Sensor and seemed quite annoyed that they were late. He checked and rechecked all their pockets in search of Merlin-knew-what before finally allowing them to head to Hogsmeade.

Romilda began to keep an eye out for Harry Potter the minute they got into town. She had heard from a reliable source that he often patronized the Hog's Head, and tried to convince her friends that they ought to try it out. Audrey refused point-blank to step foot into the establishment and continued on her path.

"Erin needs to buy herself a present," she hissed. "Then we'll go to Zonko's, and then to the Three Broomsticks."

"And to Honkeydukes," added Halimeda from behind.

"And Scrivenshaft's," Erin finally piped up, sounding sniffly. "Marcus still has my favorite quill."

"Why don't you just break up with him already?" Romilda asked, forcing herself not to complain over the fact that no one had asked _her_ what she wanted to do on their first Hogsmeade trip of the year.

Surprisingly, Erin didn't burst into tears. Every time she had been asked this question before, she had become completely hysterical. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I just—it just isn't fair. I've liked him for such a long time, practically since the first time we met and he's so sweet and funny! And he says he fancies me more."

"I still think he's a lout," said Audrey, pulling her scarf up a little higher. "I think you need to break it off yourself."

"Audrey's right," Romilda agreed. "You should be the one to dump him."

"But if he still likes me. . ." Erin protested, trailing off uncertainly.

The wind began to pick up as they approached town, but Audrey led them right past the inn and headed straight for Gladrags. She did pause for a moment outside of Zonko's, and all four girls stared in silence at the boarded-up windows. A small sign was stuck to the outside—"Closed Until Further Notice." Without saying a word, Audrey picked up the pace again and hurried a bit further down to the wizardwear boutique.

As her birthday was coming, Romilda didn't feel remotely guilty about looking in the designer section. Normally, her mother would insist that she didn't need anything that fancy for school, but Romilda was ready to take advantage of her birthday in order to get an outfit from _Fashion Seer_. Even if was the only present she got, it would be well worth it.

However, she was soon bored with what Gladrags had to offer. The minute they had stepped in, she had checked to see if Harry Potter was there. She hadn't expected him to be, since he didn't seem to do much shopping in the designer robe circuit. In fact, he only ever wore his school robes— and when he wasn't in those, he was running about in Muggle clothes. Romilda literally had to drag Halimeda out of Gladrags in order to get her to look in other stores.

"What are you looking _for_?" Halimeda grumped, massaging her elbow. "Where are we going? I only got to look in the indigo section, and indigo isn't even my color!"

"Erin wanted to go to Scrivenshaft's," Romilda said. This shut Halimeda up at once, as their outing was supposed to be for Erin's benefit.

Once they reached Scrivenshaft's, however, Romilda felt silly for even trying there. She had never once seen Harry use stationary when writing letters. He usually opted for a regular old parchment, though at one time, Kate Tarleton had sworn up and down that she'd seen Harry use a napkin as a note (this mode of letter writing had been the cool way to keep in touch for several days after). When it was clear that Harry was not present, nor was he likely to ever be present in Scrivenshaft's, Romilda began to urge her friends on to the next stop.

"Let's go to Dervish and Banges," she said, rolling her eyes at a very flirtatious hands free quill that was dancing through the air and fluffing out its turquoise feathers. "Erin! Haven't you found your quill yet?"

Erin turned, holding up three different quills. "Well, it comes in different colors," she explained.

Romilda rolled her eyes. "If you're looking for a replacement, get the same color."

"But Marcus will have the same color. What if we're both using the exact same quill in class?"

"Does it matter?" Romilda asked impatiently. "Fine. Get the green one."

"Marcus's favorite color is green."

"So get the turquoise one."

Erin considered. "But I bought it in blue the first time because I like this quill in blue. It goes with that cardigan I have."

Romilda looked anxiously toward the door. If she didn't find Harry Potter soon, she probably wouldn't find him at all. Harry had a true celebrity mentality—he evaded attention like Devil's Snare evaded sunlight. She tapped her foot impatiently, watching the people walking by outside, ready to spring if, just by chance, the Gorgeous One strolled past. "I'm parched," she said loudly. "I think we should go wait in the Three Broomsticks."

"Wait for who?" asked Audrey with narrow eyes.

Romilda waved an increasingly impatient hand. "No. I meant lets just go to the Three Broomsticks and get something to drink. Or eat. I'm starved."

"Still Harry seeking?" Audrey teased.

Romilda responded with the most mysterious of smiles. "I'm not going to bore you with specifics, but I'm getting closer to Target H. Lavender Brown thinks I should definitely go for older guys."

Audrey made a sarcastic "ooh!" face and batted her eyelashes, but shuttled Erin and Halimeda out of Scrivenshaft's as quick as could be hoped for. All four girls clutched at their bags and dashed out into the driving wind. When they passed Zonko's, Romilda ignored it and walked faster. She thought for a moment that the boards wrapping all the way around the bottom floor windows looked like a gag in someone's mouth—but she pushed this aside and couldn't imagine where she would get such an image from. Probably from reading too much grisly news—this was precisely the reason why her mother didn't like to read the paper.

When they finally arrived back the Three Broomsticks, Romilda was thoroughly frozen and beginning to get discouraged. She had been sure that they would run into Harry Potter on the way back through the village. Hogsmeade wasn't _that_ big. With Audrey, Halimeda and Erin trailing after her, Romilda quickly found the centermost table and seated herself opposite the door. If Harry and his cool entourage made an appearance, she wanted to be the first to know.

"_Witch Weekly_ arrived today," Audrey said conversationally, withdrawing a glossy new magazine from her purse as she sat down. "Guess what season it is?"

"Break-up season?" Erin said miserably.

Audrey unfurled the magazine with a flourish so that it fell open at the center. Huge, glowing letters announced the beginning of the Most Charming Smile Trials—_Witch Weekly's_ biggest international event. All of Romilda's favorite people beamed, grinned, laughed and brooded sexily back at her from the page. They were the most recent recipients of the Most Charming Smile Award— Kirley Duke, Viktor Krum, Myron Wagtail, Gilderoy Lockhart, and a whole exceedingly charming array of other people from previous years.

"It's Most Charming Smile season!" Audrey only ever showed this much genuine enthusiasm for celebrities.

"Ooooh, is that Gilderoy Lockhart?" asked Halimeda, setting down four Butterbeers and pulling _Witch Weekly_ toward herself. "I love him."

"It's the Smile Trials," Audrey said. "I think Barry Ryan is a shoe-in this year. Ireland didn't make it to the World Cup, but he got a lot of positive publicity by dating Meghan McCormack, and her brother won last year."

"I think Kirley will win again," said Halimeda. "The Weird Sisters have a new record coming out right in the middle of the voting phase."

Romilda said nothing in regards to either Barry Ryan or Kirley Duke, for at that moment, a draft of chill wind announced the arrival of Harry Potter. She ducked down and pulled out her small mirror, making sure that her hair was still attractively windswept and that her lip gloss, by contrast, had been left un-smudged.

"What are you doing?" Audrey asked, giving her a shrewd look.

Harry seemed to be very worked up about something or another, and shouted at his friends before storming to a table in the farthest corner from the door and throwing himself into a chair.

"The Beautiful-Even-When-He's-Angry One has just entered the building," Halimeda giggled.

"You know," Romilda said, struck by a sudden idea. "Harry Potter could beat Barry _and _Kirley for best smile."

"No way," Audrey gasped, but she was grinning mischieviously. "No way. Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"Romilda is thinking that we should vote for Harry Potter," Halimeda confirmed, positively glowing with excitement.

Romilda could sense a change in the wind in regards to their Most Charming Smile devotion. Every year, they followed the polls and kept up to date with the nominees, and voted with confidence for the man with The Smile. Romilda was five for six in predicting and voting for the most recent Most Charming Smile recipients.

However, the situation would call for more than just a couple of random votes in Harry's favor. They would have to recruit other girls to vote for him as well, and they would have to write letters to _Witch Weekly_ to determine just exactly how the Most Charming Smile nominees were selected— the process seemed to require one part charm, one part smile, one part public support and eight parts fame.

"We can't just vote for Harry Potter," Romilda said wisely, raising her eyebrows and casting a look sideways at Harry's table. "We have to petition for him."

"Right," said Halimeda. "We've got connections, haven't we? We can totally do this. Harry is much more handsome than Barry."

"I'll write to Ruby," Audrey offered. "You know, my cousin who works for _Witch Weekly_." She clapped her hands together. "We will get a whole weeks' head start on this, since this issue doesn't come out until next weekend!"

"Yes, yes. We know," Romilda said tartly. Never mind that it was Audrey's magazine. It was still her idea.

Erin was the only one still looking unenthusiastic. She had freed her new quill of its packaging and was stroking the feathered plume in a dejected way. "Do you have a piece of paper?" she asked Romilda, her dull tone sounding out of place in the excited atmosphere of their table. "I want to test my quill."

Romilda reached for her own bag, but spotted the corner of what looked like a catalogue stuck under her chair leg. She retrieved it and tossed the thing to Erin, who proceeded to scribble and doodle in the white margins. When Romilda looked around, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had abandoned their table. Another gust of cold wind, and the door slammed shut behind Granger's wild tangle of brown hair. Romilda felt like she had just missed some kind of opportunity.

"Erin, you aren't still moping about this whole Marcus thing, are you?" asked Halimeda in her patient but probing way. "Isn't there anything we can do to cheer you up?"

"I have an idea," said Audrey. "Let's do one of those rate-your-features charts. We can get a whole bunch of people!"

"A what?" Erin looked dubious. "I'm not sure."

It was too late to protest however, and Audrey had soon recruited several girls from various tables. "It's more fun with a lot of people," she explained. "And people you don't know are typically more honest than people you do know."

"I look like a half-drowned hag today!" Erin whined. "I don't want people to be brutally honest!"

Audrey, however, was already explaining the game while Halimeda tore up a squares of parchment for the ten or so girls who had pulled up chairs around their table. Romilda kept one eye on the outside door, just in case Harry returned. She jotted down her name and copied down a column of traits as Audrey listed them off. When she finally took a good look at all the faces around her, she realized what Audrey had done: every girl she had selected to play was an acquaintance of Erin's. The entire fourth year at Hogwarts probably knew of Erin's plight—these particular girls were Erin's classmates, room mates, club friends and lunch buddies. Not one of them would give her less than an eight out of ten for any of her features during her time of Marcus-strife.

Audrey could be a right pain in the neck, bum, elbow—you name it—but she was a true friend at her core. "Everyone pass to your left," she commanded, snatching Erin's paper. "Marks are out of 10, which is the best. Leave enough room from everyone to fit theirs in. And be _honest_!"

Every minute or so, Audrey would yell for them to switch and there would be a mad flurry of paper-passing and nervous giggles. When Romilda got Erin's, she was pleased to see that everyone was following Audrey's example. Erin's lowest number was a seven, but there were a handful of tens and nines as well. They had just begun what would have been the last rotation when Professor Sprout appeared in the Three Broomsticks accompanied by a younger witch a very dark expression.

"Hogwarts students! Your attention please!" Professor Sprout called, shooting a small burst of yellow stars into the air to make sure everyone in the inn saw her. "A student was attacked just down the street, so we teachers have been asked to escort you back up to the castle. This blustery shopping expedition is being cut short."

Her words were greeted by absolute silence and stillness from the students. Madam Rosmerta hurried out from behind the bar looking very alarmed. A few Hogsmeade residents and regulars rose from theirs seats, ready to offer assistance _(Or maybe to flee the scene?_ Romilda wondered.) A split second later, everyone was talking at once, wanting to know who had been attacked, who had done the attacking, and whether or not they would be allowed to finish their shopping the next day.

"The Aurors will be conducting an investigation, I'm sure," said Professor Sprout, glancing at the witch beside her. "In the meantime, you all need to come with me."

Chairs scraped along the floor as students vacated them, speaking in low voices. Romilda grabbed her bags and struggled through the chairs and girls that had accumulated around her. Audrey shouted over the noise, reminding everyone to return the charts to their owners. Romilda pocketed hers at first so that she could keep a good hold on all of her parcels. As the students moved out, Professor Sprout took a head count. She looked quite stern.

"I wonder who was attacked," Halimeda said quietly once they reached the street. "I heard that a whole bunch of students were attacked by a dragon disguised as a potted plant the year before we started."

Audrey chortled with disbelief. "Pur-leeease. How and why would a _dragon_ disguise itself as a potted plant? What would it do? Incinerate its victims with pollen?"

"Some pollen is quite poisonous," Halimeda replied in a dignified way.

"Someone gave me a ten for my hair!" Erin exclaimed suddenly, in such a delighted voice that Romilda might not have known it was her. Erin was pouring over her features chart, grinning embarrassedly, clearly pleased with the results of the activity.

In a millisecond, Audrey had her own chart out. She said nothing, but looked entirely too satisfied. This sort of thing would go to her head for sure. Complimenting Audrey in any way, shape, or form made her a little too confident for Romilda's tastes. That was the sort of attitude that made Audrey a complete mismatch for Harry.

Romilda fished her own chart out the pocket she stuffed it in back at the Three Broomsticks. She cast a sideways glance at her friends, and flicked open the folds. Her chart read:

Skin 8 8 8 8 9 8 9 8 9

Hair 9 8 9 10 8 7 8 8 8

Eyes 7 6 61/2 8 6 6 9 8 8

Nose 8 7 8 8 7 7 8 7 7

Figure 8 8 7 8 7 8 7 9 7

Face 6 3 51/3 6 4 3 5 5 6

Smile 7 7 71/2 7 6 5 6 5 7

Romilda gaped in horror. She hadn't expected sub-average scores, certainly not as low as three— which she'd received two of in the same category. What was wrong with her face? How was it possible that she had such high scores for eyes, nose and smile, but not for face? As far as Romilda was concerned, her face _was _her eyes, nose and smile. This was clearly some kind of ploy to try to subdue her. This is what jealousy would spurn her friends and rivals to do. It was so obvious, too. Some people had absolutely zero respect for themselves or others. How shameful.

"I've got three tens for my smile," Erin informed her, flashing a brilliant one that was completely devoid of its former sad sack qualities. "And almost all nines for my nose." She wrinkled it in what she clearly thought was a cute way. Romilda ignored her, further scrutinizing her scores. Some of them were rather strange (aside from being exaggeratedly low).

"It was a Gryffindor girl who was attacked!" Halimeda said suddenly, jerking Romilda's attention away from the paper. "Katie something, a seventh year."

"Katie Bell," Romilda said absently. Katie played Quidditch, but she wasn't the popular type. A bit too reserved for her own good. "Erin, did you give me five and a third for my face?" she demanded.

"Hm?"

"This looks like your handwriting. You gave me _five and a third_?"

Erin looked uncomfortable. "Er. . . no, I don't think so."

Lies. "What did you give me for my face?" Romilda pressed, eyes narrow.

"I, um. Well, seven probably."

"I didn't get a seven!"

"You didn't get a _seven_ in one category?" scoffed Audrey. "Please tell me you got higher than that and not lower."

Romilda crumpled up her scores with a tart "tuh!"

"I guess she was cursed or something," Halimeda continued, though no one was listening. "Terry Boot saw Professor Hagrid take her up to the castle. She was having some kind of panic attack."

"Erin, I gave you nine for your face!" Romilda exclaimed. "Why did I only get 5-and-a-flapping-third for mine?"

"Five and a third isn't bad," said Erin evasively.

"I gave you _nine_. I was being _nice_, because you _did_ look like a drowned hag after crying for several days straight!"

"I _was_ being nice. I could've just left it at five, couldn't I?"

"No you bloody well could not! I don't see how my all my features can rate high independently, but get half the score all together." Romilda rounded on Audrey. "And very funny giving me a three, by the way. Ha _ha_. Why did you even put 'face' on here at all? That doesn't even make sense!"

Audrey looked like she was trying to hold in an explosion of laughter. Erin looked uncomfortable knowing that Romilda knew she was the perpetrator behind the random fraction scores. Halimeda was the first to speak, and her nonchalance and cool logic seemed to leave no room for argument or protest.

"It's your chin," she said crisply.

Romilda halted in her tracks. "My _chin_?"

The other three avoided eye contact, shuffling their feet awkwardly in the hopes that Romilda would keep moving. A third year boy whined at them to keep moving, but went around them. Romilda glowered at her friends and then reached up to feel her chin.

"Yes," said Halimeda. "It's fine normally. Just— when you laugh— it sort of sticks out. Just a bit. It isn't really noticeable."

"It sticks out?" Romilda asked uncertainly. She hadn't ever considered the possibility of such a thing.

"You're getting better," Erin assured her. "That's why I gave you the extra third." She beamed. "It doesn't stick out when you do the mysterious smile. The one you practiced so much last summer—"

"I know what my mysterious smile is, Erin." Romilda rubbed at her chin. She wondered if there was a way to adapt the mysterious smile into a mysterious laugh. She wondered if Harry Potter had noticed her chin and been repulsed by it. Surely it wasn't sticky-outy to the point of repulsive.

As they passed into Hogwarts grounds, Romilda inspected her chin in her tiny mirror. Now that she looked properly, she realized that her chin was absolutely huge. It was like an extra head all on its own. Audrey tried to snatch the mirror away as Halimeda explained that she couldn't really see her chin in relation to her face with such a small mirror. Apparently, it was just fine as long as she didn't laugh.

"There's no need to look so upset, Miss Vane," Professor McGonagall assured her sternly as they returned to the castle. Romilda was confused— had McGonagall noticed the catastrophic chin problem? –but no, she was merely mistaking Romilda's chin anxiety for stress over something else. Probably the whole Katie Bell panic attack thing.

"I think I'm going to go have a nap," Erin said briskly, closing her eyes contentedly. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in the longest time." She plucked her mittens off and stuffed them in her bag. "Oh. Here's your 'zine," she said, tossing a pile of fluttering pages at Romilda. "I didn't write on any of the words."

It was the catalogue she had found under her chair leg back in Hogsmeade. Romilda made a face and cast around for a waste bin. There were so many people still squeezed in the Entrance Hall that she could've let it drop and it would never have been connected back to her. Catalogue shopping was for country-bumpkin types and shrill first years with minimal fashion sense.

Halimeda departed, citing the need to write to her mother. This left Audrey and Romilda, standing in the middle of the hustling crowd, not quite meeting each others eyes. Romilda had just decided that it wouldn't be uncalled for if she abandoned Audrey without a word and headed for lunch when the strangest phrase came out of Audrey's mouth.

"It was supposed to be a joke. I'm sorry," she said. "I figured you would do the same thing to me. When I said to be honest, I didn't really mean 'be honest.' I just thought it would be a fun way to cheer Erin."

Romilda nodded her head, stunned. Audrey was offering an apology? There really was a first time for everything. _And probably a last_, Romilda thought. She laughed, then tried hurriedly to hide her chin behind her hands, which made Audrey laugh.

"For what its worth, I think _your_ hair is _actually_ worth ten out of ten," Audrey confided. "Eight was supposed to be a grave offense. Jokingly, of course."

"Right," said Romilda. "Well, even if Erin's hair is short, limp and brown, I'm glad she has her confidence back."

"Exactly." Audrey began to move towards the Great Hall, where the majority of the windblown students were migrating toward the smell of food. "It wasn't about whose nose is the straightest, and it wasn't about finding out what those wannabe, hangers-on really think of us."

Just to see how it sounded, Romilda pulled her mysterious smile and tried out a laugh. It felt strange and sounded stranger. "What was it about, then?" she asked Audrey as they both headed for an empty end of Gryffindor table.

"Oh. You know." Audrey sat down at the table like she owned it. "It's all about empowerment."

A/N II: I hope to be quicker with my updates from now on— I just hit a bad spot in March called end-of-third-quarter-of-my-senior-year, and then went through a beta reader switcheroo. I promise I haven't given up: the next few chapters are out there!


	4. Ch 4: Lavender's Example

A/N: Props to my beta reader, PirateQueen, for the rockin' awesome Britpicking and for eliminating the rogue apostrophes that always lurk in my itses.

**Most Charming Smile**

By Hazelle

**Chapter Four: Lavender's Example**

Both the plots they cultivated in Hogsmeade blossomed before their eyes over the next weeks. Romilda's humble little idea was spreading like wildfire. She was accosted daily by girls eager to nominate Harry for the Most Charming Smile award. Audrey wrote multiple letters to a few well-placed relatives, including her cousin Ruby. Halimeda began to reproduce informational fliers to give to all their new contacts. Erin, still struggling after her high-profile break up, offered her enthusiasm to the cause (which was good enough for the rest of them, considering).

Audrey's ploy to to boost Erin's self-confidence also seemed to have done its job. She was considerably more cheerful, and only a few days after giving Marcus the boot, bounded up to them grinning with a half-mad gleam in her eyes.

"Marcus just asked me to Professor Slughorn's party!" Erin cried, clapping her hands and leaping up and down.

Romilda wished she knew a good charm for preventing a person from doing very, very stupid things. Though, from the sounds of it, such a charm would _not_ be very effective on Erin O'Brien.

"_Marcus_ asked you to Sluggy's party?" asked Audrey, astounded.

"Please tell me you turned him down," Romilda said, closing her eyes, praying for patience. "You turned him down. Right, Erin?"

Erin made an impatient noise. "No!"

"No like you said no, or no like. . . you said yes?" asked Halimeda.

"I said yes!" Erin said, perturbed. Then a look of comprehension came over her, and she giggled. "Not Marcus Dyakov, if that's what you're thinking! Marcus _Belby_." She said it as though it were obvious.

Romilda let out a deep breath and rubbed her temples. Audrey covered her eyes with her hands and began to count to ten under her breath. Erin beamed. "Well, _I_ love Marcus Belby. I'm so flattered he asked me, I've always thought he was good looking, and he's so funny," she said, sighing. "I love buying dress robes!"

Romilda made a face. So what if Erin was going to Slughorn's party? It really was not that big of a deal. Slughorn's party was probably going to be very lame, anyway, from what she heard.

When Audrey had arrived at their last Club meeting, she had thrown herself in a desk and made a great show of looking put upon. "Sluggy's throwing a Christmas party," she had said, wrinkling her nose. "I've only just escaped from his office."

"A Christmas party?" Romilda had been instantly jealous. Slughorn seemed to appreciate her potions aptitude, but not enough to invite her into the folds of his Slug Club. "You mean like the Yule Ball?"

"Not really. Just a party for old and new members of the Slug Club," Audrey had explained. "I think if I have to spend another evening with those swotty intellectuals and social climbers, I might implode." She had sighed laboriously. "It's like a cheap wine version of Father's business dinners."

Romilda had agreed at once— better that Audrey not go. But now. . .

"We should go robe shopping together!" Audrey was exclaiming. Romilda looked around, hoping she had heard wrong. "I'm sure there will be a Hogsmeade trip before Christmas, especially since the last one was cut short. If not, I'll just ask Sluggy for permission, he wouldn't dare turn me down."

Romilda lead the way to dinner, growing ever bitter as Erin squealed with delight and Audrey indulged her. Halimeda wandered along at her own pace, unperturbed and smiling. Every so often she would stop and offer a flier to a select girl and then jog to catch up with Romilda again. Nothing ever bothered Halimeda.

When they reached the Great Hall, Romilda waved unenthusiastically at the other three and sat down at Gryffindor table, alone. It was a little early for dinner, but Romilda did not feel much like socializing. Instead, she pulled out _Witch Weekly_ and pretended to read the news section. She couldn't rid herself of the image of Audrey and Erin cuddled up in some bathroom, giggling and doing their hair and nails. Harry Potter would probably be at the party, too.

The death toll for an attack in such-and-such town had reached eight. That was the only thing Romilda could actually remember from her reading, which was rather sad as she had been rereading the same line over and over again without realizing. The news was so _boring_.

The sound of wood scraping over stone gave Romilda an excuse to abandon the news. A couple of third years had plunked themselves down across from her and were looking expectant. Romilda forced a sugary smile and focused on the alpha girl— a certain Jenna Pokeby— who had been trying to elbow her way into the _Witch Weekly_ campaign all week.

"Hi, Romilda," Jenna said brightly. "Have you heard back anything from _Witch Weekly_ yet?" It seemed like an innocuous question, but Romilda knew better.

She continued to smile and shrugged ambiguously. Something about Jenna had always repelled Romilda. She was a bit like Audrey— she knew how to manipulate her peers—but she was far less subtle than Audrey and far more annoying. "I'll announce it to everyone when I feel like I have something to share," she said tartly, each word lined with passive distaste.

Jenna didn't miss a beat. Romilda thought she saw her eyes flash, though perhaps they were just shining with enthusiasm. "That's great," she chirped, as though Romilda had answered the question. "You're the best, Romilda." Jenna and her friends stood and wandered away down the table to sit elsewhere. Romilda rolled her eyes and returned to her news. She had never liked the third years. They were all incredibly small and dim.

Romilda had only finished reading the first line (annoyingly enough, the same line she had already read several times) when someone else filled the space that Jenna Pokeby and co. had deserted. It was Lavender Brown, accompanied as usual by Parvati Patil. Romilda was astounded by her own good fortune.

"Hi, Romilda," Lavender said breathlessly. She was running her fingers through her hair and glancing anxiously at the doors. Parvati barely seemed to notice Romilda was there, but Parvati was hardly the main attraction.

"Hi," Romilda responded, equally breathless. She looked around to see if anyone noticed that Lavender and Parvati had just sat down _next to her_.

"Did you see the Quidditch team in here?" Lavender asked, looking up and down the table.

"Quidditch?" Romilda's heart sped up as it always did at the mention of the word Quidditch, which she now associated so closely with Harry Potter that she found herself responding to it as though "Quidditch" was a synonym for his name.

"Yes. I'm looking for— Lavender paused at a sharp elbow jab from Parvati, "—I'm looking for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Sometimes they eat dinner before they go to practice."

Romilda narrowed her eyes, careful to keep them thoughtful looking instead of wary. This was suspicious behavior, coming from Lavender. Why did she want to find the Quidditch team? Who was she looking for? A sudden fear gripped Romilda— Lavender Brown was after Harry Potter.

"No, they haven't been here," she said steadily, fiercely hoping that they had been. The last thing in the world that she wanted was someone like Lavender Brown catching Harry's eye. She found herself feeling very threatened and used all of a sudden. Lavender was probably going to hang around until the Quidditch team showed up; hopefully they had already come in for an early dinner. She wished that Lavender and Harry would never run into each other again. Ever.

In the ensuing silence, a small amount of food appeared on the table before them. Parvati reached for a serving utensil. Romilda watched Lavender carefully as Lavender strained to keep her eye on the doors.

"Oh well," said Lavender at last. "Let's come back later," she suggested to Parvati. "I'm not that hungry."

Parvati looked up from a mouthful of casserole. "You said you were starving."

"Did I?" Lavender continued to gaze at the door.

"Yes, you said you wanted to eat early because you were starving," Parvati quipped, waving her fork threateningly. "I wasn't hungry before, but now I'm already eating so you _better_ try this casserole."

Seeming to snap back to reality, Lavender pulled the dish towards herself with a note of reluctance. "Right."

Romilda said nothing. She wasn't sure what to say— the only thing she really wanted to talk about was Harry. Lavender and Harry. What had been said, what had been done, and how long had this attraction been growing between them. Or maybe the attraction had always been there. Romilda wanted to know everything. How could she have missed such an obvious, obvious pairing?

"So are you looking forward to the Quidditch game tomorrow, Romilda?" Lavender asked.

Romilda was startled to find that she was still a figure in this conversation. The older girls had seemed to tune her out the second she revealed her lack of information. "Er," she began, then cleared her throat awkwardly. Who was she trying to fool? There was _no way_ she would ever be able to compete with beautiful, popular Lavender Brown. "Yes. Quidditch will be fun."

"Are you a Quidditch fan?"

_Why is she even bothering?_ Romilda wondered, but answered with an overly cheery "Yep" that sounded childish and lame to her own ears.

"Oh, that's right. I remember," said Lavender kindly. "You tried out for the team this year, didn't you?"

"That's right," Romilda said, trying to regain her confidence. She had to stand her ground, regardless of Lavender's relationship with Harry.

Lavender smiled. "Did you ever find that mature, normal boy you were lacking back in October?"

Romilda wanted to retort with "Did YOU find him?" but settled instead for a simple shrug-and-head-shake. Her shock was wearing off, and it was no time for hotheaded and suspiciously resentful comebacks.

"They are out there," Lavender assured her. "You just need to—" She stopped mid-sentence, dropping her fork with a loud clatter. "Is that—?"

Romilda turned toward the door, expecting to see Harry but he was nowhere to be seen. Parvati snickered. "False alarm, Lav," she said, patting Lavender's arm sympathetically. "He's at practice, I doubt he'll be coming to dinner."

Lavender slumped, a guilty, embarrassed smile on her face. "I feel silly," she said, wiggling and tugging at her earrings. "He's kind of cute when he's angry, isn't he."

Romilda winced. He _was_ cute when angry. He got all passionate and protective when challenged— but just because Lavender appreciated it also didn't actually make her any more suited to Harry than anyone else. Parvati made a sound like "tch!" and took another bite of food.

"And he and Hermione are fighting more than usual," Lavender whispered excitedly, loud enough for both Parvati and Romilda to hear. "I wasn't quite sure before, but now I'm positive."

Again, Romilda couldn't help wondering why she was suddenly privy to the gossip and woes of Lavender Brown. It felt like some kind of test— how much could she take before she lost it completely? She could see now that it was Lavender who held all the right cards: she had more opportunities, closer contact, self-observed gossip and probably an equal determination. Lavender was basically rubbing it in. Super.

Not feeling remotely hungry, Romilda suffered through another ten minutes of Lavender and Parvati. Normally, Romilda would've been delighted to just listen to them talk, but she was far too flustered to enjoy herself. It came as a great relief when Audrey appeared behind her.

"See you tomorrow," Romilda said, as nicely as she could manage. Lavender and Parvati paused long enough to flash her identical, generic smiles and continued to talk together.

"Were you sitting with them?" asked Audrey interestedly, peering over Romilda's shoulder as Romilda shuttled her out of the Great Hall. "You didn't have to leave because of me. What were you talking about?"

"Nothing," Romilda said dryly. "She was just looking for Harry Potter. I think they might be dating."

Audrey looked scandalized. "No! I've never seen them together!"

"Maybe you just weren't looking in the right places," said Romilda, exasperatedly. "Lavender seemed very secretive about it."

"Well I just wanted to let you know that Erin and Halimeda flipped coins," Audrey called as Romilda began to climb the stairs. "Erin is going to sit with me and Halimeda is going to sit with you."

"What?"

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Quidditch?" she reminded. "You know, that game that occasionally pits our houses against each other? Harry Potter plays it. Surely you follow Quidditch."

Romilda pursed her lips. One of the traditions of their friendship was for the two girls whose houses weren't playing to flip a Sickle to see which house they would support. That way, everyone had someone on her side, no one sat alone, and their group didn't begin to rift. Romilda had been known to sit on the Slytherin side of the stadium, and often put up with Audrey's sarcastic cheers and half-hearted banner waving when she sat with Romilda in the Gryffindor section.

"I'm going back to dinner," Audrey continued, turning to leave. "I just wanted to let you know that we already took care of the toss." Or, more likely than not, she just wanted to let Romilda know that Erin had decided she wanted to sit with Audrey so that they could discuss the party.

Romilda stormed back up to Gryffindor Tower, intending to hide in her room until she heard Ginny and Demelza return from their practice. She flipped violently through her magazine pile, searching in vain for a quiz or a questionnaire she hadn't already marked up. She knew there was a _Young and Magical_ somewhere that she hadn't taken a quill to, but unable to find it, Romilda returned to the _Witch Weekly_ news section. Boring and depressing as it was, she needed something to keep her awake until she was sure that Quidditch practice was over and Harry Potter had returned to the common room.

When she awoke, however, it was not to the sound of Ginny and Demelza's feet on the stairs but to the sound of a whole stampede of feet heading _down_ the stairs. Someone had closed the curtains around her bed, but the fuzzy candlelight that normally filtered through them had been replaced by the white glow of morning. Confused and irritated, Romilda unstuck _Witch Weekly_ from her face and sat up.

"Damn it!" she exclaimed. The match was in ten minutes. She had fallen asleep in her robes, she was starving, and she wanted badly to brush her teeth.

Romilda struggled into a new set of robes, one-handedly drawing her long hair up into something she hoped resembled a ponytail. She had intended to do something a little more elaborate and festive— something eye catching, like red and gold ribbons and clips— but there was no time now. In a singular movement, she grabbed her wand, a Gryffindor scarf that she hoped was her own, and a pack of someone else's gum.

In her great panic, Romilda moved quickly enough through the common room that she might have been able to fly out of the portrait hole. Unfortunately, Halimeda was standing just on the other side of the wall, pestering the Fat Lady. With a shriek, Romilda landed right on top of her friend, knocking them both to the floor.

"Let's go!" Halimeda cried, without so much as a greeting, question or complaint. "I can't believe you weren't at breakfast— Audrey said that Lavender Brown told you that Hermione Granger and Harry Potter are fighting, and it's totally true."

Romilda scrambled up from the floor, chasing a small tub of lip balm that was rolling away on its side. "It's true?" she echoed, a warm and excited feeling beginning to spread out from her stomach, which was immediately quashed when she remembered that Harry was dating Lavender now. "I don't think Hermione Granger was an issue," she confessed.

"No, she definitely stormed away from Harry during breakfast," Halimeda argued. Romilda compulsively added a layer of gloss to her lips, mulling this over. It hardly mattered— there wasn't much of a point in Harry-Seeking if Lavender had him in her grips. Not unless she— that is to say, the four of them— resorted to some kind of sabotage.

"I'm not above sabotage," Romilda heard herself say. Halimeda didn't hear however, as she was now leading the race to the Quidditch pitch. Jogging along down the stairs and out across the lawn, Romilda smiled in a dark, musing sort of way, wondering what kind of mischief could possibly lasso Harry Potter, or bring Lavender Brown down.

She was still lost in thought as they climbed the bleachers, avoiding the pointed ends of flags and banners and trying to find a friendly face to sit by. The crowd of students suddenly roared to life, applauding and shouting, as the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams flew on to the pitch; they had arrived just in time for the start of the game, but not in time to find decent seats.

Hoping that they might be able to spot Romilda's Gryffindor friends from higher up, Halimeda led the way towards the top of the stands. Romilda realized with an unpleasant jolt that Loony Lovegood was sitting in one of the back rows with that huge lion hat of hers. Just as she made a move to direct Halimeda elsewhere, a hand came out of nowhere and caught the sleeve of her robes.

It was Lavender Brown.

"Romilda!" she exclaimed, then turned away to address Parvati Patil on her other side. "_Romilda _will be excited and girly with me!"

"I _am_ excited," Parvati objected. "But I want to watch the match!" She whistled loudly and waved a Gryffindor flag energetically, scarcely acknowledging Romilda and Halimeda.

"Here, sit with us," Lavender yelled over the noise as Slytherin took the Quaffle. Halimeda seemed very pleased to be invited to sit with Lavender and Parvati, but Romilda was a little confused (and still suspicious). She didn't complain, however, when Lavender made space for them in her row.

The new commentator, whose voice was not nearly as dreamy as Lee Jordan's, cut over the din, "Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on the goal, it's Urquhart streaking down the pitch and--"

"GO RON!" Lavender shrieked, her cheeks flushed and excited, clapping her hands loudly.

"—Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose," the commentator finished, sounding slightly disappointed.

"Stupid Zacharias," Lavender said angrily. "Never date Zacharias Smith," she advised, looking very seriously at Romilda. "Not that you should ever have that problem. He has no taste in anything."

Romilda grinned. A compliment? Was she being buttered up for something? "Are you my new relationship guru?" she asked with an uneasy chuckle.

Lavender laughed, then nearly fell off the bench as Ron Weasley saved another goal. "If you want me to be!" she said, prodding Romilda with her mini Gryffindor banner. "I suppose I just feel for you, that's all. You _are_ stuck with Ritchie Coote in your year."

Startled, Romilda looked to Halimeda, eyebrows raised. Halimeda looked just as perplexed as she felt, which was a good indication that Lavender had actually said what Romilda thought she had said. She was flattered at first, but as usual, the feeling was dampened when she remembered that Harry was taken. She wasn't sure she wanted advice from Lavender, of all people.

Though, arguably, Lavender's advice might be more valuable than anyone else's in the whole school. She had won Harry's heart—potentially, she could teach Romilda to do the same.

A great cheer rose up from the Gryffindor seats, drowning out Lavender's next words. Zacharias's voice echoed annoyingly through the stadium, "Gryffindor takes the Quaffle, it's Ginny Weasley— formerly a Seeker during last year's shaky season, though apparently Potter had no problem offering her a new position—and Weasley scores."

"WHAT?" Romilda shouted to Lavender, cupping her hands around her ears.

"I said, I think the best advice I've ever received was to JUST—GO—FOR—IT," Lavender shouted back amidst more screams of approval. Ginny Weasley had just scored another ten points. Lavender scooted down the bench, a little closer to Romilda. "I wish someone would've just told _me_ to go after the boy when _I_ was in fourth year," she said.

"Ah," Romilda said, finding herself in the unusual position of having no idea how to respond. She watched the rest of the match in near silence, occasionally rearing up with the rest of the crowd in celebration as more points were scored, more goals were blocked, most Bludgers were deterred, and finally, as Harry caught the Snitch. Ginny Weasley acted on behalf of all of Gryffindor by demolishing Zacharias's podium with her broom. It was so glorious that Romilda forgot to be awkward around Lavender.

Lavender was either very kind or very oblivious; if she noticed Romilda's tension, she didn't let on. She didn't seem to suspect foul play, which was fortunate as Romilda had spent the whole match contemplating her next move.

"Now, we party," Lavender said, hopping down from the bench. "See you girls around!" With Parvati behind her, Lavender edged off through the crowd.

"Are you off to celebrate?" Halimeda asked. "That was very strange. We just watched Quidditch with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. I think I can count the number of words I said on one finger."

"Don't stress about it," Romilda sighed. "It's probably better to let Lavender do all the talking."

"Maybe she thinks you're a good listener," Halimeda joked.

"Maybe," Romilda said. "I'm going to go to the common room party, but first I'm going to go have fun with Audrey."

Audrey and Erin were passing along the bottom of the benches. Romilda leaped down them, ignoring Professor Vector's insistence that Romilda use the aisles only. Erin waved, but Audrey was typically trying to avoid eye contact, pretending that she hadn't seen Romilda coming.

"That was a fabulous game, Brockman, a fabulous game!" Romilda cried gallantly. "Your house was a most worthy opponent, but alas, the Lion still reigns in the jungle of life, Quidditch, and Harry Potter!"

Audrey's expression was cool. She looked like she wanted to say something sour and scathing, so Romilda prepared herself to fire back. Instead, Audrey shrugged imperceptibly with a tart smile. "That's what you get with Quidditch, I suppose," she said.

Romilda snickered.

"Quidditch is very passé these days," Audrey said dismissively. "It's not what it used to be."

"Yeah, right!" scoffed Romilda. "Like you have anything to compare it to!"

Still refusing to go for the bait, Audrey rolled her eyes. "Well there is Quodpot," she sneered. "But then, you don't subscribe to _Cosmic_, so you probably have no idea what a real athlete looks like."

"You don't subscribe to _Cosmic_, either!" Romilda accused, narrowing her eyes. "And no one watches Quodpot!"

"That's because no one around _here_ has any culture anymore!" Audrey accused. She stalked away, Erin hovering apologetically in her shadow, making a painfully awkward face.

"Audrey doesn't read _Cosmic_," Romilda said. "Her mother would never let her read that trash."

"Right," said Halimeda quickly. "Er. . . Well. . . You have fun celebrating. I'm going to--" And she sidled away without finishing her sentence.

Back at the Gryffindor common room, Seamus Finnegan was fixing the victory banner to the wall and trying to reanimate the lion that Dean Thomas had drawn on it ages ago. A seventh year boy was cool-charming a small army of Butterbeers that must have been carried upstairs by all the house elves in the school, and Stephanie Cauldwell was busy emptying bags of crisps into large bowls.

Harry hadn't arrived yet, so Romilda dashed upstairs to check out the face situation. She twirled her hair furiously around her wand, trying to get it to fan out just a little at the bottom (a handy trick she picked up from _Witch Weekly_ that drew attention away from the chin and mouth). As she pushed her new dangling earrings into her ears and went for another swipe of peach lip gloss, there was a quick knock at the door. Then Lavender Brown walked in, her face flushed and her eyes shining.

"Hello," Romilda stammered.

"Romilda— I'm going for it. Right now," Lavender said, grinning excitedly. "Come down with me? Parvati is stalling."

Fear gripped Romilda's insides. "Going for it?" she gulped.

Lavender nodded wildly, wrapping her long blond hair around her finger anxiously. "Please please please come with me?"

Romilda took a steadying breath, her thoughts racing jealously. There wasn't really any way that she could refuse and remain on good terms with Lavender. _You might learn something useful—be patient!_ she chided herself.

"I've been talking about doing this for months, practically," Lavender said, leading the way down to the common room. "I'm _tired_ of talk."

"I can imagine," Romilda said truthfully.

Lavender giggled. "You shouldn't have to imagine, Romilda. You're darling."

"Thanks."

At the bottom of the stairs, Romilda took a quick census. Most of the Quidditch team had returned, but not the Oh-So-Charming Captain Potter—thankfully. Romilda hoped he would never show up. Perhaps he had broken his leg on the way up, and was laying, brave and pained, in the Hospital Wing, awaiting a kind hand to smooth back his hair and spoon Skele-Gro into his mouth and erase all memory of the terrible taste with sweet kisses--!

"How's my hair?" Lavender asked, interrupting a beautiful train of thought that nearly caused Romilda to go weak in the knees. "Okay, here I go. I'll show you exactly how this is done."

Slightly confused, Romilda watched as Lavender squared her shoulders, flicked back her hair, and tugged down the front of her robes ever so slightly so that you could see the quick glitter of her necklace charm. "Learn by example!" she declared breathlessly, and glided confidently across the room to—

"Ron Weasley?" Romilda said out loud, as if hearing it would actually make her believe her eyes.

Though Romilda couldn't hear the words exchanged, Lavender giggled at whatever Ron said and pushed him back gently with her hand spread on his chest. The next thing anyone knew (and half of Gryffindor was watching) Ron had covered her hand with his own, Lavender was gazing coquettishly at him, and they were somehow attached at the lips (or, Romilda thought, attached at the everything).

Ron Weasley, indeed. Romilda shook her head at herself. How silly! All of that fuss over Lavender's crush on Ron Weasley.

"Did you _see_ that?" asked Kate Tarleton, sounding astonished. "Lavender Brown just jumped Ron Weasley in front of everyone!"

"I wish I had that courage," Isotta Ingham said, sipping her Butterbeer and carefully averting her eyes from Ron and Lavender. "Oh my God, it's Harry Potter!"

Romilda whirled. It wasn't that she had forgotten about him, but seeing him again so suddenly without any Lavender worries hanging over her head was exhilarating. It was like seeing him for the first time. She was grateful that he wasn't crippled in the castle somewhere, but it closed the door on her picturesque Hospital Wing daydream. Romilda knew in her heart of hearts that it was time to handle things Lavender-style_. "Learn by example!"_ she'd said.

"Who wants to be Harry Potter's date to the Christmas party?" she said loudly, attracting all the girls within earshot. Romilda felt as if she was channeling all of the energy in the world and able to dip into the deepest wells of bravery in Gryffindor. She was ready to come out of her shell and take her future into her own hands. It was like the other girls weren't even there, but they moved forward as one until they stood right in front of Harry, who looked from face to face perplexedly before centering in on Romilda.

"Hi, Harry!" she said cheerfully and was pleased to find that there was no trace of shyness in her voice. "What are you up to?"

"Er. . ." He looked around at the party, which was now in full swing. "You know. Just celebrating."

All the girls giggled nervously. It wasn't _really_ a joke, but something about the way he said things was just so funny. It was like he thought he was stating the obvious.

"It's a fun _party_, isn't it?" Romilda replied, keeping her Witch Weekly advice in mind ("Carefully balance your words with your body language: Wizards respond more quickly to the latter, which you can use to emphasize what you are actually saying."). She lightly emphasized the word "party" and did not break eye contact with his lovely green eyes.

"Well, it was a fun match," Harry answered, and Romilda giggled again, slightly annoyed when she heard the rest of her roommates giggling in unison, too.

"It must be so cool, getting to go all sorts of parties," gushed Romilda. "You're practically the only reason we get to have parties in this House! Hey" —The perfect opportunity had inserted itself right into Romilda's monologue— "you're going to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, aren't you, Harry?" Romilda gave herself an inward pat on the back for being quite a bit more subtle than Audrey could ever hope to be.

"Hiya, Harry!" someone called, before Harry was able to respond to Romilda's hint.

"Hi, Colin," Harry said. Romilda gritted her teeth, for that nearly imperceptible glint of interest had gone out of Harry's voice. Stupid Creeveys. They were possibly too nerdy to look at, and certainly too lame to talk to Harry Potter, but that never seemed to stop them from popping up right in people's lines of sight (especially Harry's).

"That was the coolest catch, Harry!" Creevey rambled pointlessly. "It looked like Harper had it, but then you were right there, and BAM! it was over, just like that!"

Harry smiled in a strained way, and looked around the Creevey brothers uncomfortably. Yes, he was way out of their league, and he knew it, thank Merlin. Romilda mirrored his annoyed smile, and rolled her eyes at the back of the smaller Creevey, who had stepped in front of her like she wasn't even there.

"I'm going to get a Butterbeer," Harry said, and he hurried off.

Romilda had been about to follow him, but the army of girls swallowed her up in a sea of squeals and disbelief. "Where did he go?" Romilda cried, fighting her way out of the tangle and looking around wildly.

Hermione Granger brushed her shoulder, and apologized vaguely without looking back. Romilda watched her exit through the portrait hole, a great sense of victory rising in her chest that reached its peak for just a moment when Romilda turned to find Harry Potter making a beeline for her.

A million happy images flitted through her head. "Harry! I just wanted to tell you—"

"Er, 'scuse me," Harry said quickly, and instead of inviting her to the Christmas party, or kissing her, or asking if she'd like to take a walk around the lake, he walked right around her and followed Hermione out the portrait hole.

Before she was even able to register what had happened, there was another collective "ah!" from the gaggle of girls, who began to chatter at once and offer a maelstrom of unwanted sympathy and advice.

"Not quick enough, Romilda!"

"Maybe next time."

"Poor Romilda!"

"That Hermione is some competition, alright!"

"I guess he's still not over Granger."

"What can you do? _Witch Weekly_ is never wrong about celebrity affairs."

And then her victory deflated and a hard, sinking feeling overtook Romilda.


End file.
